


KNEEL

by Wannagetlunch



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Fear kink?, Multi, Negan is his own warning, People Will Die, Plotless, Short, lotsa themes, maybe smut idk, tension out the wazoo, themes lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wannagetlunch/pseuds/Wannagetlunch
Summary: //“Kneel,” he says, slowly, mouth forming around the word very deliberately.//
Non-chronological chapters ft. Negan and his interactions through fear, dominance and subjugation. Some chapters from Reader POV. Super tension filled. Might get explicit, might get sexual.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just writing from my feels and imagining what it would be like under Negan's rule. Reader is not the same in each chapter unless stated. Most chapters are plotless and largely descriptive.

“Kneel,” he says, slowly, mouth forming around the word very deliberately.

Negan’s eyes, sparking with life just a second before, harden as they catch yours, wide and stunned. Everything about him is dominating. His posture, inches away from you, invading your personal space like he already owned it, hip titled off-kilter and jutting out his crotch. His wide shoulders are casually slacked back like he is joking with a friend. His eyes hold contact for too long and with too much intensity to be comfortable. He speaks loudly, unpredictably, with the delight of a sadist and the cadence of someone who is accustomed to being listened to.

The top of your head only comes up to his chest and when you look up at Negan at this proximity, you feel impossibly small. You try to take a shaky step back but he fills the space immediately, not letting you have anything. He takes up your entire frame of vision, looming over you in a way that makes you impossibly vulnerable, leather jacket crinkling softly with every subtle movement. He smells like a man; like dirt, grime, cigarette smoke and cologne.  

You remember to breathe, shakily. Fear falls like a blanket over your neck and shoulders, tingling there like hackles on edge. Your hands are curled together tightly at your stomach though you don’t remember bringing them there, an instinct to put a barrier between your two bodies. Your heart hammers in your chest like an anxious rabbit’s foot thumping to warn of danger. _Run! Hide!_ _There’s a predator!_ The need to pull the knife that was holstered to your thigh races through your head a thousand times only to realise, each time, it’s no longer there.

The moment stretches. The bizarre order envelopes the space like a bad joke at your expense, the gang of Saviours watching with an amusement that fills you with shame. You can’t meet Negan’s eye for long, throwing your head down and to the side, your mind desperately tossing over the order, trying to find a way around it, a way out. The thought of kneeling there, in the forest leaf litter after they’d chased you down and taken all your belongings, everything you had, after everything you’d been through. It is too much. You toss your head again. _Just do it_. But you can’t. Your pride burns like fire in your chest. You clench your jaw and stare down at the forest floor, legs trembling softly but not buckling an inch.

“Haha! Are you _kidding_ me?!” Negan suddenly barks out a laugh. He leans back, hands spread out comically and eyebrows raised as he bends his knees to try to catch your eye again. When you wouldn’t meet him, he makes a sighing noise and straightens up, glaring at the top of your head. “LOOK AT ME!”

A primitive squeal of fear leaps from your throat and your wide eyes snap up to the sky, your shoulders jumping as high as they can go. Suddenly, you feel like you are going to cry, but the horror of doing that is worse that kneeling, so you swallow thickly and force it away before looking into Negan’s eyes with hitched breath. Your expression is pleading, your brow knitted upwards in a silent _please_.

His face looks like he is ready to kill. You’d seen it many times in this new world, in other’s faces and your own. “Sweetheart,” Negan drawls, his anger evident in the way his lip raises, brows fall heavy over his eyes. “Sweetheart, I really thought you’d be the smart type.”

Your expression crumples as you hang your head, looking back up at him, pleading, your mouth opening and closing and your head softly shaking side to side. You look wildly around you as dread settles in your stomach, eyes glossing with water. With horror you see that the circle of men around you are smiling, snickering with the humour of watching someone make a rookie mistake. You feel so intimidated, so small, so useless. Like a child being disciplined.

You swallow hard and your breath comes out loud and laboured. You feel your pride, your identity flare up monstrously in your chest and with huge effort demanded it to recede. You close your eyes and exhale until you feel you were empty, until you’d skittered to the very back room of your mind and, with a tear spilling, locked the door.

Negan makes a low grumbling sound in his throat. Your eyes whip open as he catches the tear gently with a finger, brushing it softly away from you face, his tenderness humanising him in a way that feels wrong. You stare at each other now with a sudden understanding. You wait, feeling a million miles away, until he finally repeats, “ _kneel._ ”

Your eyes and knees drop as he says the word you are waiting for, hand leveraging for balance on the ground as you lower yourself onto your knees, your head level with his crotch in a way that deeply embarrasses you.

“THERE we go!” Negan booms, gesturing to the men around him happily, and they jeer, some laughing openly. “There. We. Go.” He punctuates the words with sharp nods, clearly delighted.

Negan looks down at you and smiles sincerely, making a pleased sound low in his throat. “You belong to me,” he says, clearly and simply.

You look up at the man, the shame of the words burning you.

“Say it,” Negan demands.

It takes a moment for you to find your voice. When you do it comes out small and choked. “I belong to you.”

“GOOD _GIRL_!” Negan shouts, another smile erupting over his face. “Was that so fucking hard, sweetheart?” He claps his hands and spins around gleefully, sauntering off to collect Lucille from one of his men and return to his truck. “Damn, it has been a god damn _wonderful_ day today!”

You feel the relief of Negan exiting your space and a spark of hope comes into you. _You didn’t get hurt_. _You’re alive!_ The primitive part of you, the frightened rabbit in your chest, is rewarded, believing you had done the right thing. For a moment the feeling overshadows everything else and you untangle your arms, slack your shoulders.

“Move out!” Negan shouts the command over his shoulder before angling into the cab, and for a hopeful moment you think he might leave you there, kneeling on the ground.

“Get up now, little girl,” you are jolted as one of the men grabs you roughly by the upper arm and drags you to your feet. He pulls you towards one the trucks as the Saviours starting packing up. You watch as one of them throws your backpack and weapons into the tray of Negan’s truck. Distantly, you reflect on how quickly you’d lost ownership of them.


	2. NEW WORLD ORDER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violence! Angst! Poor Rick! All the Warnings! lol  
> Also super short. Just a scene I had in my mind.
> 
> Tom is random character. Someone Reader cares about, at least.

“If you were _half_ the leader Rick was!” The insult spits out of your mouth, filled with anger and injustice before you can make any better judgement. There is darkness, the need to kill behind your eyes and resolution in your expression. You feel ready to die.

Negan freezes before turning on his heel to look down at you, his expression of genuine surprise and intimidating intensity. The loudest silence falls over the scene.

Rick’s head flicks up and shakes to the side, shock and horror floating over it in equal measures. “Y / N, please …” he sticks a hand out in front of him to appease, attempting to calm the situation, looking from you to Negan in futility.

Head pumping with adrenaline now, you scramble to your feet from where you’d been kneeling next to Tom’s body. Your right hand clenches around Tom’s hunting knife, jaw grit, chest puffing up and down. “If you were half the leader Rick was, you’d never have let him die,” you say, surprising yourself with your clarity.

The two Saviours behind you cock their weapons immediately, pointing them directly at your head and turning to Negan for orders.

Tom’s older brother sits bowed in the corner of the room, crying softly into himself.

Negan nods, considering you like a cat considers a mouse. “ _Was_ ,” he says finally, twirling Lucille for emphasis on the word. “The leader Rick _was._ ” He turns his upper body to Rick and grins wickedly.

You exhale slowly and shake your head, hand twitching on the knife. The image of slashing the knife across Negan’s neck replays again and again in your mind, urging itself to come to life. “You have no idea,” you force the words out, your face contorting. “You have no idea where we’ve been. What Rick’s lead us through.”

Memories flash through your mind and stick in your throat. Woodbury. The Terminus. Time after time, making the toughest calls that no one wanted to make, shouldering the burden of everything, everyone, every awful, dead thing. You lock eyes with Rick and his face is of absolute pain. He shakes his head, disbelieving. He hadn’t expected this of you.

Negan laughs, loudly and with delight. He slaps a large hand down on Rick’s shoulder, squeezing and rocking it as he seems to contemplate his next move. He drops his head onto the shoulder, still laughing under his breath. “Now what do I do about this little fucking shitshow, Rick?” he asks softly, leaning on the man as if they were friends.

Rick’s face grimaces as he carries Negan’s weight. Sweat beads at his forehead and his skin is pale. There is a long pause before he whispers, “look. She-she doesn’t know what she’s saying. Now, I know -”

“Mmm,” Negan interrupts him with a sound low in his throat. “Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick …” he chides, now pulling away to look Rick directly in the eye. Negan takes a few steps backwards, swinging Lucille with greater and greater momentum. “This is real cute and all … but you _know_ I gotta shut that shit down _…_ ”

Rick’s head shakes back and forth, frightened eyes darted towards you as you freeze with dread.

Negan looks down at you with hooded eyes, smirking. “Tell me, sweetheart. Would a leader as fucking great as _Rick motherfucking Grimes_ …” he starts, swirling the bat in circles as he leans towards you “… let _this_ happen?”

Suddenly, Negan spins around, heaving Lucille overhead and bringing her down on Tom’s screaming brother. A cry rips from your throat as everything goes red. You swing the knife high above your head only to be knocked into the wall beside you by one of the Saviours, the barrel of a gun forced painfully into your neck. You watch as the bat comes down again and again on the man.

You watch as blood spatters over Rick, who stares at the ceiling, motionless.


End file.
